The Better Days--chapter 6
Title: The Better Days
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 6
Summary: When your whole world turns upside down in a minute, how do you handle it? How do you go on when you're missing a huge piece of yourself? This is Zac's story as he tries to survive the worst thing that's ever happened to him.
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Three days have passed since Kate’s funeral, and I haven’t done a thing. Tay and Ike left the day after it happened, going to spend some time with their families, but they return every day to check on me, and I can tell they’re worried. But there’s nothing I want to do. Except lie in bed and pray that Katie will somehow magically walk in and curl up next to me. When they come in on the third day and see I still haven’t changed out of the ratty old T-shirt and boxers I threw on the night of Kate’s funeral, and still lie in almost the exact same spot on the bed curled around Kate’s pillow, their faces go slightly paler and Tay’s chewing on his lip. I wonder vaguely what they’ll say.
"Hey, Zac…" Ike greets in a hushed voice, as if I’m sick or dying or something. I make some kind of sound in response, some vague grunt. It’s too much of an effort to say hello. Tay sighs a little as they both cross the room to perch on the bed. He’s holding a bag, I notice.
"We brought you food," Tay says, holding up the McDonald’s bag. The stench of deep-fat-fryer grease is nearly enough to make me sick; I whimper a little and turn my head away. I don’t want food. I haven’t been hungry for a long time. There’s a little silence before Tay speaks again. "It’s your favorite. Double quarter pounder, extra cheese and pickles and fries. Why don’t you come down to the kitchen and we can have lunch?"
"Not hungry," I say; my voice is hoarse and scratchy. When did I start sounding like an old man? I hear a whoosh of breath as both Ike and Tay sigh at the same time. Ike shifts closer to me and rests a hand on my back; his voice has a hint of pleading in it when he speaks.
"Zac, you haven’t been eating well at all. You’ve had…what…one meal since Ka-since Friday?" He catches himself quickly, but I know he was about to say Kate’s funeral, and the mere thought of it makes my face squinch up with tears. I sigh shakily and try not to sob all over the place. They notice, and Tay reaches to squeeze my shoulder.
"Aw, Zac…hey, it’s okay…cry if you need to, dude, okay?" I sigh again. I don’t know if I want to cry or not. I’ve cried so much since my wife died, I’m starting to think it’s a wonder my tears haven’t all dried up. Oh God, my wife’s dead…Katie’s gone. It hurts like hell just to think those words, so much that I can’t stop the tears if I wanted to. I let out a soft, helpless sob, feeling like such a child, but the pain is so bad that I think I’ll explode if I don’t let the tears out. I sit up with effort and reach towards Tay-my inner two-year-old is peeking out again-and he makes a little "aw!" sound and enfolds me in a hug. It feels good to be held by someone, even if the person I want to be held by the most can never hold me again. Sighing, I lean my cheek against Tay’s shoulder and try to calm down.
Ike reaches to rest a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. "Zac…" he says, and he sounds like he’s steeling himself. "Zac, we’re worried about you. It’s been over a week, and you haven’t done a thing…."
"I don’t want to do anything," I say as forcefully as I can, which, given the tears, isn’t very forcefully at all, especially considering the hiccup that makes its way out as I speak.
"We know you’re grieving, and that’s okay…" Tay takes over in a soft, soothing tone. "But you can’t just lock yourself away for the rest of your life, Zac. You haven’t seen anyone except us since the funeral. Mom’s nearly going insane because she’s so worried about you. The kids want to see you, too. We know you’re not gonna be ‘wacky Zac’ right now, and that’s okay, but…"
I slowly shake my head, sniffling. Tay and Ike glance at each other as I sit up a little; both of them have an arm around me still. "I don’t want to do anything," I repeat softly. "I don’t want to see anyone."
"Zac…" Ike chews on his lip. "We want you to come home with one of us. It’s not healthy for you to be staying here all alone when you’re-like you are," he says, and I frown in confusion, swiping at the tears that remain on my face. "You’re hurting," Ike clarifies, "and it’s not good for you to be alone, especially to be alone here. Please…we think it’ll be good for you to have people around…."
"We just want to take care of you," Tay puts in. "You’re not taking care of yourself right now, and it’s obvious you need help. That’s all we’re trying to do is help you. We won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to. Nat and I have the guest room all made up, and you know the kids love you; they’d be thrilled if you came to stay for awhile…"
"Do you really want the kids to see Uncle Zac like this?" I say softly, sniffling again.
"Well…they were at the visitation and they seemed okay when we took you to see them after the funeral," Tay says. "You don’t even have to see them if you don’t want to…we can keep them away when you need us to."
I sigh a little. The thought of moving, of doing anything, actually, is really really unappetizing. But they’re obviously really concerned, and it’s kind of nice to know they care that much. And, okay, just about anything would be better than this endless agony of sitting around knowing I can never have my Kate back. I nod. "Okay," I say softly. "I’ll come."
I watch some of the tension drain out of their bodies as they sigh in relief. "Okay. Um…you should probably get cleaned up before we go, Zac. We can get your stuff together if you want to shower real quick?" Tay offers. I sigh a little, but nod, shifting slowly to get up. When I do stand I’m a little dizzy; something of it must show on my face, because Ike reaches over and grabs my elbow gently until I’m steady. I head towards the dresser, grabbing boxers, jeans and a t-shirt, and go off to shower.
I feel like I could just stand under the hot water for ages; when it finally starts to turn cold I get out, dry off and dress. It takes a lot of effort; when I’m dressed I don’t even brush my hair or anything, just head downstairs to the living room, where I can hear my brothers’ voices. I still don’t really want to do anything, but I know that’s not what Kate would want. She’d want me to go on with my life…so no matter how much it hurts, I’ll have to try.